


The Perfect Weapon

by BlackhurstManor



Series: Deepwatch: Malcolm [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, Fantasy, Gen, Gritty, No Romance, No Smut, Origin Story, Thieves Guild, Waterdeep, Yer a Zhentarim Now Malcolm, Zhentarim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackhurstManor/pseuds/BlackhurstManor
Summary: If "Once Upon a Time in the Dock Wards" gave a glimpse into Malcolm's youth and the formation of some of his assumptions about life, civilization, and everything, "The Perfect Weapon" is a snapshot of when Malcolm finally decided to become part of something bigger. It's a small moment in a shabby place, but for him, it changed everything.
Series: Deepwatch: Malcolm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773874





	The Perfect Weapon

When he woke in Warm Beds, there was a wrapped parcel resting on his chest.

Malcolm sat upright quick as he could, which lit the dull throb of his hangover on fire. The parcel – it felt like a slim wooden box wrapped in butcher paper – slid sideways, but he caught it before it clattered to the floor. Several beds were crammed into this cramped, windowless room, and each one held a snoring man who looked as bad as Malcolm felt. Best not to wake them.

As he swung his legs around and planted his feet on the floor, Malcolm turned the parcel over in his hand. It was a simple enough wrapping job, but each corner was tidy. The ribbon that tied it together was thin silk, and likely cost more than this entire room.

_ Davil. _

Of course. Davil had returned from years of adventure with promises of great wealth and opportunity for Malcolm. He had also returned with a taste for the finer things. 

Malcolm opened the parcel – neatly, in deference to the finery of the material – and pulled from it a dark walnut box with brass hinges. The finest craftsmanship, of course. Malcolm unhooked the latch and opened the box wide in his hands.

Inside, on velvet, a dagger. But as with everything else in this parcel, it wasn’t just any dagger. The blade was curved like a flame, and the hilt was shaped like the wings of the handle’s serpent.

A shot of adrenaline cleared the fog in his head. A neat folded square of paper was beneath the dagger’s tip, and this Malcolm took before closing and latching the case and tucking it beneath the sheets. The timbre of snoring hadn’t changed, so likely no one else had awoken, but all the same…

He opened the note. Inside were three lines of neat script.

“ _As this dagger is to you, you will be to us._

_ Welcome, old friend. _

_D.S._ ”

Malcolm looked around cautiously again, as if the sleeping drunks might have read his thoughts. Or just the one thought, really. One word, over and over, scalding his mind of anything else like a breath of dragon’s flame.

_ Zhentarim. _


End file.
